


I've Got You Under My Skin

by IrishCoffee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2468105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishCoffee/pseuds/IrishCoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small, quick bit of fluff written for Sherlock's Rare Pair Bingo. Really loosely using the prompt 'kiss' and this was the fourth attempt at filling the prompt. </p><p>Greg attends a University fundraiser dinner with Jim. They dance, they joke, Greg pretends to be cultured, and of course there's a kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got You Under My Skin

Standing in a warmly lit, wood-paneled room, Greg was making small talk with a couple men he’d only just met. Though it wasn’t exactly small talk, it was head nodding and random noises in agreement or distaste as the officer wished he was anywhere but where he was standing.

These were new nights, clearly Greg had a thing for those in the education field and for god knows what reason those same educators were willing to throw a party for everything. If only there was comfort in moving up the food chain, quite a difference between a secondary school guidance counselor and a university professor but both left the officer feeling the same incredible boredom.

When it came to these staff parties Greg hadn't exactly lucked out with his new professor of a partner, so much was better about his life with Jim. Okay, everything was better about his life with Jim. Except these parties. Secondary school staff would get together, everyone brought a dish from home, someone decorated the staff room like a kids party, and maybe, if you were lucky, someone brought a bottle of cheap wine.

Always in the corner, fake smile plastered on his face, with his tiny plate of cheese with frilly toothpicks and tiny sausages, flask tucked not-so-covertly in his pocket, Greg would struggle through the event. He never made a scene, he always went, but rarely participated.

No doubt there would be a fight on the way home, Greg wasn’t about to stand around with a bunch of women as they complained about having this student or that in their class, bemoaned the lack of discipline parents these days favoured, and acted as though that half a glass of wine was enough to get them drunk, that wasn’t his scene. Still he went. Two other husbands attended, none with the regularity of Greg. Still he always managed to do  _something_ wrong and the drive home was nothing but an argument. 

On the university level it was something completely different. These were galas, thrown to help entice investors, to woo people into pouring money into the school or thank them for their contributions. There were still cheeses on tiny plates but Greg couldn’t say the names of half of them and they all smelled terrible.

He’d once made the mistake of tasting one, he was brave and didn’t have much concern for what he consumed (as Jim would gladly remind him), on the outskirts of a conversation, watching his partner smooze the crowd like a professional, Greg took a bite of the new cheese. It resulted in every bit of his acting ability to even be near the realm of socially acceptable. There were a few snickers at the faces pulled by the officer who was left to choke down the worst tasting piece of so-called-food he could remember tasting. After that, he stuck to the things he knew.

More surprising than that terrible excuse for cheese was the ride home. Greg had to have looked like a wounded puppy the rest of the night because he was dreading the car ride, he knew what that would entail. His past got in the way often, drawbacks of such a long lasting marriage, and this was one of those moments.

Jim didn’t yell, nothing close. It took half the ride home to even get around to the incident and Jim let out the laugh over it he was able to hold in, he was a professional after all, and made a few cracks about it but he wasn’t mad nor embarrassed. He knew what he had in Greg and frankly he wasn’t with him for the society side but rather the caveman behaviour that was on display, or barely restrained, that night.

That night Greg thanked Jim in the only way he could, the least civilised night they’d had in a long time. After that, Greg came along to these events with a little less protest. He didn’t always enjoy them but it was easier to go along and support someone who supported you and all your flaws.

It didn’t stop at cheese though, Jim was there for Greg in a way that he didn’t have to be. Jim could easily arrive with Greg and dump him on the sports department, making rounds to work the room alone and play his part without his partner. Instead, Jim involved Greg, introduced him to interesting people, people he thought Greg would actually get on with and when all the salesmanship was too much, Jim made a beeline right for his man, for comfort, for that escape. They didn’t spend the whole night together but they didn’t ignore each other all night either.

Tonight, however, Greg was a little worn out. He was in the middle of a big trial, draining in a way that actual work wasn’t but leaving the officer feeling a little more antisocial than normal. Again he stood on the outskirts of someone else’s conversation and gave the appropriate gestures with the crowd, participating without being involved.

Being the prestigious university this was, this party was classy which Greg hated. His suit and tie that he was dying to get home and get out of replaced by another, the manners he had to mind in the courtroom now extended to this evening as well.

The walls stocked with books, floor to ceiling in some attempt to display how serious they really were about learning here. A carpet that had to cost more than Greg’s old flat and his car, combined. Wine with an outrageous price tag flowing freely, open bar with vintage spirits, and more food Greg didn’t know how to say, let alone what was in it. There was even a string quartet playing quietly in the corner.

All night the quartet had been playing the classical pieces you’d expect, it made Greg laugh because it was every stereotype he could think of and he was a little more Animal House than this. He didn’t recognise the Beethoven from the Bach, it became white noise to him. As the night started to come to a close, the quartet changed their repertoire and suddenly Greg was listening to a familiar melody.

Of course it wasn’t something he could instantly place, it wasn’t the Buzzcocks nor the Cramps, it wasn’t some top forty song from childhood and filled with memories, no it was something new, that was why it couldn’t be instantly placed. Only slightly familiar and there was only one place to look for the answer.  
A quick scan of the room and Greg located his partner, locking eyes, a quizzical look already on his face. The fact that people were leaving in small packs, the room a third of what it had been, it was not only easy to spot Jim but to communicate with him across the room.

The look was read instantly by Jim, the confusion clear and it took less than a second to pinpoint what would cause Greg to wear a look like that and seek answer from Jim. A tight lipped smile pulled as Jim closed his eyes gently, nodding his head a few times to tell Greg he did in fact know this song.

Perhaps a few too many drinks into the night (though not even tipsy) Greg held a hand out and his look switched to say, without words, ‘Great, now why do I know this?’ with a hint of attitude to express he knew that much now needed the information he didn't know.

Across the room Jim mouthed the word ‘Sinatra’ as his only response. It wasn’t an easy word to catch through lip reading and Greg batted his hand at the air, dismissing this entire conversation. Jim rolled his eyes but turned back to the conversation he had been a part of, picking up like he’d never left it all.

Still the song went on, not even a minute into the instrumental and Greg couldn’t handle it anymore. He knew this song and it had to have a link to Jim and he was going to find out the answer no matter what. Putting his glass down on the nearest surface with little concern for what it was, he was a man on a mission and there was no time for manners, Greg crossed the room and made a rather bold move.

Tapping Jim on the shoulder, a dopey smile on his face over the plan that formulated in the move across the place, Greg extended a hand. “I believe they’re playing our song.”

The smile grew on Greg’s face, he was lying, at least he thought so because he still didn't know just what this song was but he was about to have some fun in what had been an incredibly dry evening. Plus he had a chance to not only show off his man but the dancing he’d been learning slowly.

Jim was missing the link here, his last ‘conversation’ with his man had been over what song was playing and there was no previous knowledge of them having a song, this wouldn't be Jim's choice if they did. The confusion of that mixed with the fact that Greg was asking to dance showed on the professor’s face which quickly turned to a stare that said ‘you’re joking?’

With his hand still out as he waited for Jim to take it, like the gentleman he was, Greg shook his head and again answered a question that wasn’t spoken. The men knew each other incredibly well for the short time they’d been living together and it seemed to shine bright tonight as they carried on conversations without talking.

Before Greg had even finished shaking his head everything in Jim changed. The professor persona left in a flash and there stood Jim, a man madly in love with his boyfriend. Quickly, Jim’s hand was placed in Greg’s, in a rush that was an apology for taking this long to get around to it. “So they are!”

Greg’s first step backwards halted by Jim who turned back the people he’d been entertaining and passing the champagne flute off to the wife of one his colleagues like it was her job to take care of it and turning back to Greg letting the grin return to his face.

A few more steps backwards as Greg extended the hand which held Jim’s, the other rested against the small of Jim’s back as he pulled them closer together. This empty area nearly the middle of the room was fine enough for a dance floor, no other couples were doing such a thing but Greg had never been one to care about what everyone else was doing. Neither had Jim for that matter. 

There was a pause as they stood in the proper starting position, a heavy inhale as Greg remembered everything he’d been taught thus far. Straightening his posture, with a sharp exhale Greg started to move, staying in time with the music which was a little faster than Brahms number.

Jim had stood there in silence, he was not about to rush things along, he knew what that would do to Greg and it wasn’t the time to start complaining that the man he had to nearly force on to a dance floor when it was just the two of them was about to lead him in a dance in public. It only helped how Jim was feeling watching how Greg had to prepare and think about this.

The classic dances hadn’t been the focus, Jim wanted to keep things fun in their lessons, but Greg had a basic waltz down and that’s what he’d launched into. Thankfully, in Greg’s opinion, he was past needing to count off his steps and could effortlessly move, not just move but lead.

Moves were a little shaky as Greg started but Jim stuck with him, allowing his partner to hold the position of lead. Jim had confidence in his man's abilities as well as his own abilities as a teacher. Some stilted movements, a hint of nerves but mostly evidence of someone who was thinking too hard, as Greg figured it all out again.

Once he’d found the rhythm, able to continue it without thought, Greg looked down rather than maintaining his perfect posture. “What is this bloody song?”

Another look saying ‘you’re joking, right?” before, again, Jim resigned knowing damn well Greg was not joking. “Is that your ultimatum in all of this? To figure out just what the band is playing?”

“No!” Greg scoffed with a smile. “I asked you out here because I love dancing so much.”

Jim groaned again and avoided the question, not because he was annoyed with it but it was far more fun to make Greg suffer and not get his answer and if Greg was going to give sarcastic responses like that, Jim wasn't going to roll over and take it. 

Greg had been in enough relationships to think he was on thin ice here, his next move had to be careful and talking about the song was off the table for sure. Tightening his grip on Jim, making more purposeful moves as he guided them around. The song had ended and another started, Greg easily adapting to the new arrangement.

“No, Jim. I asked you to dance because I wanted to, because I fucking know how to do this now. I don’t know what fork to eat with when given a salad without leaning over to ask you but I know how to do this and I’m bloody well going to!”

“The first step is admitting you have a problem but you certainly seem to be working on it.”

Now it was Greg’s turn to groan, one that called Jim every name he could think of without saying a single one. And again, the groan was not only understood but expected. Jim’s smirk grew with the reaction he was getting.

“One step at time, right?” and Jim’s hand which rest across Greg’s shoulder gave a little pat.

As mad as Greg wanted to be he couldn’t, this was the most comfortable he’d been all day and that was saying something considering he was waltzing around a room. For all the courtroom talk and the Detective Chief Inspector role he had to play today, for all the mindless chatter he had to do with strangers, Greg was finally in his comfort zone. Having the piss taken out of him by the man he loved.

With a smile he couldn't suppress, Greg eased his movements to stop and took a half step back. Looking down the small distance, looking his just shorter partner in the eyes, and that same dopey smile on his face, Greg leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to Jim’s lips.

Brief by their standards but location did have to be taken into account, Greg pulled away from the kiss and his smile returned instantly. “You’re a fuckin’ twat.”

“You would not have it any other way and you know it, you bloody wanker.”


End file.
